So It Started With A Dream
by NavyQuill
Summary: Draco Malfoy is locked in a room of questions and can't answer a single one. But the main question stabbing at his mind is Why Her?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
The Dream

The room was warm and humid, and the moment was golden. The couch was set and the fire was lit. The only thing missing was Hermione.

Malfoy sat with his arms outstretched across the sofas back and his eyes half shut, also with his legs crossed. The accommodations wallpaper was maroon and so was the fluffy, tepid carpet. Hermione's taking too long thought Malfoy, lounging across the settee, holding his skinny head upon his tired, steady hand.

The blonde haired boy let out a yawn, but kept his position practical.

"Malfoy, I'll be there in a minute" called a voice. The tone was soft and affectionate, never before had he heard such passion in a line. A content grin spread across his face and he sat up and into his original, scene. Satisfied as he was at that moment, he knew it was about to get better.

His brushed his hand along the white, button-up school shirt he was wearing, and placed it behind his head, along with his second hand.

A crash came of a cupboard shutting, and a sigh emerged from the silence of the kitchen behind him. Draco's head perked up, as thuds from the carpet came, and a cold hand stroked his cheek. He shut his eyes peacefully, as creaks from the sofa sounded; he re-opened his eyes and peered to his left. Hermione was lounging across him, her hands on his lap and chest.

"Did I take too long, Draco?" Hermione asked, her eyes fluttering carelessly.

Hermione and him stared into each other's eyes tenderly and he caressed her cheek.

"We have all the time in the world, Hermione…" he answered, smiling lovingly. He had never really noticed before, but her eyes were a calm, playful hazel, and her hair wasn't just bushy and untidy; she'd done something to it, maybe it was the moment, but her hair had a glimmering shine to it.

"D'you think we're wasting our time?" Hermione asked, looking down doubtfully. Why had she said that? There had to have been a good reason.

"Why do you say that?" Said Malfoy, he straightened up, and placed his left leg beneath his right and held her hand. He stared into her eyes once again, trying to talk some common sense into her. She was smart, but now she wasn't. Perhaps she was just smart in class? I doubt that, Draco thought, a grin crossing his soft, temperate face.

"I – I'm just being silly. I'm not my usual self …" she forced a smile and let out a short laugh. "Never mind me"

The two moved closer; now serious expressions on their faces. She leant onto his chest and placed her warm arms around his neck. It tickled him a little, but he chose to ignore it. Nothing could ruin it now. Still staring deeply and lovingly into each other's eyes, they came closer and closer, until they came so close.

Hermione cocked her head slowly to the right, and lifted up, finishing in a slow, affectionate kiss. The fire seemed to glow magnificently and forcefully. The room appeared as if it were spinning. Their eyes were both shut, and the kiss was set lasting for five minutes; Draco flowed his fingers through Hermione's hair quickly as the brown eyed Gryffindor massaged Malfoy's neck.

The kiss ended. They both separated slowly. Staring into her eyes. He smiled and stroked her, from her cheek to her soft, silky hair.

"Draco! Draco!"

Draco woke. His eyes widened as he glanced about the room.

"Draco!"

The Slytherin shot his head forwards towards the front of the classroom. Students were beamed at him in a sneering way.

"Yes professor?" Draco answered. Professor McGonagall was his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, and no doubt he'd receive detention for sleeping in class times. But there was something that made Malfoy freeze, the fact his dream involved Granger, That filthy little Mudblood.

"No sleeping in my class – detention" That line seemed to echo through his ears as a splitting headache shot into his left temple.

He shot one last glance around the room across to the far corner, and there, was Potter, Weasley and Granger, the inseparable trio. At that moment, an endless pit seemed to drop in his stomach and he felt as if a knife had struck his heart. Granger. He breathed in deeply, trying to forget the dream. It didn't mean anything, it was just a dream. But the more he scalded himself about not having the dream the more he thought.

"Now, Mr Malfoy, stay behind. I have some extra homework for you at the end of the lesson" Professor McGonagall said. Malfoy shot her a dark look, before the bell rang, signalling end of school time.

The blonde haired Slytherin watched, in yearning as Hermione left the room, not even to turn around, not even to talk. She just strolled away, silently.

It wasn't Granger in my dream …it was my imagination. The Granger in my imagination! Like a filthy mudblood like her could compare to the dream last night. If that was true, she'd of had the same dream – it didn't mean a thing… Malfoy assumed, flicking his hand nervously. I'll deal with detention first – then I'll get some well merited sleep. And hopefully … I won't have the same, ludicrous dream again…

"Mr Malfoy. How many times has it been now?" the head of Gryffindor announced, with her round, shining spectacles hanging off the brim of her furrowed nose. Her eyes were sharp and her lips were tight. If he had to describe McGonagall in one word, he'd say 'Stern'.

"I've never slept in class Professor. You must have gotten mixed up with someone else" Draco answered. He hesitated for a short moment, then whispered, "Like all the time"

"What was that last bit Mr Malfoy? I assure you, if you cannot sort out your outgoing attitude young man, I will get in touch with your father, and I will take necessary precautions" She struck Malfoy's nervous system. He knew very well that his father, Luscious Malfoy, may well recompense his was out of this mess, but there was no further need to go on with the row.

The teacher laid a piece of parchment on the desk Draco sat at. He looked down disgusted and back up with a sorry face. Oh, what have I got to do now? Paint a picture?

"I want you to write out five-hundred times, why students – especially you – should listen in class"

"I've already told you professor. I was listening!" Draco protested, banging his fist firm down on the table. Of course he regretted it afterwards: with what, an additional freight of lectures on his shoulders, but with an awful pain in the side of his hand.

"Do NOT raise your voice at me like that, Mr Malfoy. Do you want another shipment of homework?" She asked, with her usual strict, harsh tone.

"No Professor"

"I advise you keep your voice down then" Professor McGonagall whispered in a calmer accent. She turned on her heal and returned to her desk. "You may leave, now"

Draco immediately snatched up the parchment he'd received, and ambled out of the classroom. When in the corridor, he ran up, forgetting the cold murky passageway. Forgetting the feeling off someone watching him. He stopped dead, shut his eyes tiredly and rested against the wall.

The blonde haired boy could hear whispers from far away and clattering footsteps echoing. His head buzzed, and the earth spun, like if he was dizzy. Malfoy dropped his books and parchment, the ink shattered on the floor, he neither jumped nor cared.

He sighed.

"I wonder if Granger, did have the same dream"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Silent Wish

Draco woke to find the blinding rays of sunlight shining brightly in his weary eyes. The quilt covered him from neck down and his right arm dangled limply off the bed.

The previous day was the opening thought into his mind at that moment, as he gaped idly at the dormitory ceiling. Since that embarrassing moment in class, the flaxen haired boy couldn't bring himself to walk away; he couldn't bring his lifeless self to yet shift a limb. The thought of stepping outside the Slytherin common room would bring staring eyes to his focus and gossip to open minds.

"Draco … what day is it?" the usual, morning greeting came. The tone was lazy and low, he knew exactly who it was, one of his two group members. Crabbe. Malfoy yawned widely and budged his head slightly upwards to come face to face with the overweight bruit himself.  
He shot him a dirty look.

"Get out of my face" he muttered, darkly.

"I asked you … what day is it?"

" It is a crap day…" the grey eyed Slytherin murmured. He shuffled around with the sheets, and tossed them aside, gradually sitting on the boundary of the bed and leaning forward on himself. He shut his eyes tightly and sighed. Why did I dream that? It's going to haunt me forever … the blonde haired boy thought, Hermione has nothing to do with my life – oh great, now I'm even calling her by her real name…

Malfoy breathed out hopelessly.

"Uh … Draco, I'm hungry—"

"Get it yourself!" he snapped, unaware that he was now stood and raging with anger. How many times had they complained to him? How many times had they expected him to do their dirty work for them? Always.

He rattled the hatred out of his head, thinking of his dad. I'm nothing like my dad … I never was and never will be…

Once more, shutting his eyes, he lowered his skull; he appeared to be acting an aged religious apology.

"I – I need to be alone … the food's in the Great Hall…" he muttered ungratefully. Once the pair vanished off into their world of food, Draco readied himself, trying to clear him mind of the mist over the past few moments of his life.

He glanced out of the pane of glass and out onto the luminous green grounds of Hogwarts. The lake shone beautifully from across the patch of grass. He watched as a wave of water was thrashed upwards and a tentacle materialized from under it. The giant squid that had lived there for thousands of durations had always fascinated him. Where did it come from? Is there more? Is it a fierce creature? Part of the time those questions popped up from nowhere, and he'd spend up to an hour attempting to answer them. He'd never guessed why it was in this very lake, but it didn't matter.

Draco turned and shot out of the dormitory door, down the brick, spiral staircase and into the Common room. It was pretty much empty, besides a couple in the far corner sweet talking each other. He found images of the dream firing into his mind; his memory bank was what angered him so much. No matter how hard he tried to forget something, he gathered he couldn't.

He chose to ignore it, and looked down singly at the ground. Eventually, he strolled his way out of the Common room and into the murky, stench filled dungeon. It was much colder outside than it was in the student house. He glimpsed around, catching the representation of grimy, slimy stone walls. Fungi appeared to be growing from the cracks in them and they were covered from top to bottom, inch from inch in moss.

Finding the background disturbing, the pale haired boy tottered away, and through the grand, high doors of Hogwarts School. The suns rays glimmered down forcefully at the ground; the effect of linoleum green surrounding the milieu.

He felt comfortable with sitting by the cold, relaxing lake, especially with the sun shining radiantly, but he collected enough information over the past five years, that it was tremendously popular amongst other pupils. He needed to be alone.

Soft, distant voices echoes through the frosty atmosphere ad he trod along the lakes bank, gazing vaguely down at the muddy surface. His feet slushed in its wet conditions, due to the fact that water may have spilt. Finally, he was alone, and he had time to think for himself. He strolled steadily past the damp level and further north. Draco peeked up his head, the forest was drawing ever so close, yet he did not care whether he stepped a metre inside. Although its dense figure reminded him fully of the Dungeon and caused him to shiver and shake his head, he walked on, as he drew nearer to his point of fear.

When at last, he came eye to eye with the dead appearance, he remained cool and firm. His warm breath made steam in the cold air as he breathed; it was so cold, he couldn't breathe through his nose, because it hurt so.

Still oh so early. He yawned.

Malfoy sat himself down in the now dry environment, his robes beneath him so he didn't receive grass stains.

A dream He thought, a dream is something that your mind plays for you. It is just a mini movie inside your head that rolls at night. It is nothing more, so why am I making such a big deal out of it?

He thought for a while; why did he make such a big deal of it? It was nothing special.

Have I suddenly gained a liking for Divination – no. That can't be true. Divination is just a load of crap … or is it Hermione? Obviously if I can't stop thinking of it, then the main capture was me and Hermione. I don't fancy Hermione … but – NO. I don't … in our third year, she punched me. In my fourth year, she completely ignored me, and now, she completely ignores me again …

Draco battered the soil with his fist and knelt forward, gritting his teeth.

"Arghhh! WHY? I DON'T DESERVE THIS!" he boomed. His voice echoed several times into the Forbidden forest before he settled into a hopeless, hunched back.  
If I hadone silent wish...he'd wish for some sense from this...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Why Does He Stare?

#Hermione's Eyes#

For Harry and Ron, homework was stacking up like the Empire State Building; all they did was put it off. On the other hand, Hermione was beginning to worry about their O.W.L.s, since hers were all up to date and she had revised and memorized every chapter in the textbooks. Usually her two friends would complain, especially Ron Weasley, but that was common because now Hermione was no longer helping them with work.

It had just been another Saturday, and Hermione had chosen deliberately to dwell on the fact homework was, yet again, mounting up.

_Surely, Harry and Ron will be back soon, but their homework will fail, and so will they if they don't care. All they care about these days, is Quidditch,_ she thought, holding her quill inches from the blank piece of parchment. The main objective was to complete instructions for a certain, complicated potion named the Polyjuice Potion. Although the Gryffindor trio had brewed this tonic before, it still remained as complex as usual.

She sighed.

_I complete this potion in my second year, and this is what I deserve? Having to repeat it? – Oh well, it's here and I'll have to get through it … now …_ Hermione began writing the title and subtitles for the subject. The ingredients were – as she had admitted – were hard to remember, especially when there were over thirty components.

She had to confess, she found herself becoming somewhat unfocused, she peered out of the pane of glass, with a longing expression stamped across her face. The sky was pitch-black and the full moon was glistening the lake across the ground beautifully. It wasn't often Hermione caught that effect outside; she was usually too fixed on completing all homework tasks, or even reading a book.

The full moon reminded her of her third year at Hogwarts, when Remus John Lupin was her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He actually grew in popularity amongst most students as a teacher, he taught well and it was a pretty much practical filled timetable when at his classroom.

Although Professor Lupin became a great tutor, there was something that Hermione didn't learn until the class had their first practical in Defense

Harry stood forward, his wand at the ready. The Boggart's present shape was a swaying clown-like jack-in-the-box, it swung back and fro, when, eventually, the Boggart spun. A cold wisp of air weighted round the staff room. Hovering in Harry's way was a black robed, hooded creature. Its hands were scabby, but its face was hidden by the shadows. A Dementor

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.

The Dementor had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silver white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "_Riddikulus_!" almost lazily. 

The orb was in fact the full moon amongst a series of dark, night clouds. The thing was, Hermione discovered, that, that one piece of information, was enough to recognize Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

Faint voices muffled through the hallway as a woman's voice called, "Password," in an aristocratic tone.

"Lion Blood!" a croaky, familiar voice answered. Finally after the long wait, Harry and Ron had arrived. They shuffled slowly and easily through the hole in the wall and made their tired selves through into the common room.

"Hello," Hermione said in a light note.

"Hi Hermione," the two boys called, making their way towards the settee besides the fire where Hermione was located. The seats that sat on were their favoured place in the Gryffindor Common Room. If you were going to find them somewhere, you'd find them here.

"So, where have you two been? Practicing for Quidditch, no doubt?" the bushy haired girl asked. 

"No, actually," called Ron. "For your information, Hermione, we've been studying in the library.

"Yeah, we figured that if we're going to pass our O.W.L.s we'll have to work a lot harder than usual." Harry agreed. "Isn't that right?"

"Ye.p"

"Well … I'm glad you're happy about that – it's a lot better than last year. You two have finally got it together!" Hermione said, almost flustered.

She forced herself to concur; the two were really bringing themselves together.

"Well, I just have to finish this homework, then I'm turning in," Hermione noted, and the two nodded slothfully, as Harry yawned widely.

"Oh well, I've done my chore for today. G'night."

Harry almost leapt up off the couch and rushed away hastily, Hermione shook her head with an 'oh-that's-nice' expression on her, who said, "Well, you look tired. You sure you aren't going to go?"

"You're right, I'll just distract you. C'ya."

"C'ya."

Hermione watched as the ginger-haired teenager strode off up the spiral staircase and out of sight. She spun around and yawned at her homework. It was the weekend, was there any point in finishing it so late?

After every sentence she wrote, Hermione found she began staring off into space (literally), and snapped out of it thinking she was an idiot.

_Oh, I can't go on like this. I'm too tired, don't be a fool; I won't be able to concentrate well tomorrow if I don't rest now … at least I remember that…_

The Gryffindor packed away her belongings and parchment into her bag and set off up the spiral staircase and into the girls' dormitories. The moon shone radiantly through the window onto her cold-looking bed. She heaved a great sigh and changed into her pajamas, paying extra attention to buttoning up her top, trying to make sure she didn't mix them up.

She slid her way underneath the quilts and lay her head down on the chilly pillow. It seemed quite comfortable, compared to sitting up dozily, trying to complete set work. She thought for a while about her two friends. Was it a trick or a joke studying in their spare time? Or had they really done their homework?

She soon found herself carrying herself onto another subject: Draco Malfoy.

_I've noticed him staring at me across the classroom, and through windows during class time. What is his problem? Has he got something to say? Because usually, he'd just walk up to me and say it … I doubt it's anything else … but … but …_

She felt her eyes blurring the room. She yawned.

Soon, she fell asleep, and fell into a long, deep dream…


End file.
